Oh, for the comfort of a discipline, or, "There's no place like home"

In my reading on disciplinary differences, the setting for teaching and learning, etc., I ran across a great quote. Poole (2009) pushes back against another essay, in which Donald (2009) uses the metaphor of "home" for academic disciplines. Poole asserts that

complexity taxes us cognitively; whereas, uncertainty taxes us emotionally. Perhaps this is why Donald asserts that uncertainty is a greater threat to academics than is complexity. We are trained to deal with complexity. Indeed, most disciplines thrive on the application of intellect to reduce or at least explain complexity. Uncertainty is another matter. Our students expect complexity in their university course work. Generally, however, they abhor uncertainty. It is one thing to tell a class that a concept is difficult. It is something else again to tell them that there are a number of concepts that could be employed in a given context and we are unsure as to which is the best one. Our disciplines reduce the number of competing concepts and bring some degree of comfort to us and to our students (p. 51).

This rings particularly true for me, as I bounce from anthropology, to sociology, to philosophy, and back again, while reading for a research project in a profession (education). I'd love to find a "home," to be able to reduce the uncertainty as I also try to bring some sense to the complexity of my topic. But alas, my source of frustration is confirmed later in the article, as Poole states that "professions are not the same as disciplines. Professions contain disciplines" (p. 54, emphasis added). So it looks like I've picked a boundary-spanning homelessness for myself. When I'm done with my treatise, that will probably seem like a good thing. [wry smile here]
Poole, like Trowler (2009), rejects the reification of the discipline, or a particular epistemology for a discipline. Both share a view that disciplines are socially constructed lenses for organizing knowledge. To take the "home" metaphor a bit farther, the boundaries that establish disciplines as intellectual homes are not so much permanent, solid walls, but more like lines in the sand. A good wind may erase the separation, a renegade academic may redraw the line, or a strong storm may wash away the sand. Perhaps an even better metaphor would be the paths that define plots in a community garden.On the one hand, the practices of one gardner growing tomatoes may offer some benefits to another gardner, across the path, raising potatoes. On the other hand, come spring some kid with a rototiller may completely tear up the path, and create fertile new strip, between the plots.
Now, to stray a bit farther, this consideration of boundaries brings to mind a topic of discussion at work during the past week. In looking for a creative solution to locating our "learning information studio," we've had some interesting conversations about boundaries to the space. How much of a boundary do instructors need to feel "at home" teaching in the space? How "at home" should instructors feel, and how much do we want the space to challenge the safety of a traditional classroom? A fundamental design principle for us is that the space, or more precisely the learning taking place in the space, should be highly visible. Some ideas that surfaced this week:

• what if, in addition to one clear glass wall, we use a translucent glass wall as a whiteboard/projection surface that is partially visible to passersby in a darkened hallway outside the studio?
• what if we build a front end with more solid borders for whiteboards and projection, and the back end with a variable/less permeable interface to the outside?
• what if, beyond the semi-permeable divider we have a more open area that can serve as expansion/overflow/breakout/interaction with non-members space?
  
• and, here's a new one that just occurred to me: what if the space features a monitor that is capable of providing simultaneous, real-time definitions from dictionaries/other reference works from multiple disciplines, of terms that are used in the class wiki/blog/real-time interactive interface?
  

I guess what I'm getting at here is deconstructing classroom and discipline together by creating a space for developing interdisciplinary thinking by participating in "boundary practices" (Wenger, 1998). But alas, now I need to get out of the boundary between work and treatise research, and continue to till the treatise soil. I do need to get to harvest in that plot!

Donald, J. G. (2009). The commons: disciplinary and interdisciplinary encounters. In C. Kreber (Ed.), The University and its disciplines: Teacing and learning within and beyond disciplinary boundaries (pp. 35-49). New York: Routledge.

Poole, G. (2009). Academic disciplines: Homes or barricades. In C. Kreber (Ed.), The University and its disciplines: Teacing and learning within and beyond disciplinary boundaries (pp. 50-57). New York: Routledge.

Trowler, P. (2009). Beyond epistemological essentialism: Academic tribes in the Twenty-first Century. In C. Kreber (Ed.), The university and its disciplines: Teaching and learning within and beyond disciplinary boundaries (pp. 181-195). New York: Routledge.

Wenger, E. (1998). Communities of practice: Learning, meaning, and identity. Cambridge, U.K: Cambridge University Press. 

Why Reinvent the Wheel (or Learning Space)?

Earlier this week I went with a couple colleagues to an event on technology in higher education sponsored by BKM Total Office of Texas. Some of the key ideas presented during the one of the sessions on generational differences within the workforce are available as an article on the Steelcase website. Another interesting session focused on Steelcase's research on academic libraries. There was also a session with representatives from a local community college talking about their Steelcase "LearnLab" prototype classrooms.

In the Baylor Libraries we are currently working, in partnership with Baylor's Academy for Teaching and Learning, on the design for what we are calling a "learning innovation studio" for Moody Library. On the way home from the workshop, one member of our team asked the question, "Why reinvent the wheel?" His point was that the vendor had put considerable research into the design of this new "off the shelf" classroom, the LearningLab. Why would we continue to put time and energy into a completely new design, having heard some testimony from students and a faculty about how the LL creates an entirely different learning experience?

These are good questions -- but I think we came up with some good answers. I read an article earlier this week on course management systems. In that piece, Lane (2009) makes the point that "course management systems ...are not pedagogically neutral shells for course content. They influence pedagogy by presenting default formats designed to guide the instructor toward creating a course in a certain way." She goes on to compare "opt-out" systems, like Blackboard, with "opt-in" systems, like Moodle. According to Lane, most users of these CMSs are relative web novices, so tend to take the path of least resistance. This means translating into the web-based world old pedagogical practices, especially when the structure of the CMS reinforces this trend. So a CMS that emphasizes space for storage and submission of documents, rather than a course timeline, or learning objectives, tends to become something akin to a photocopier, email client, and grade book, rather than a stimulus for pedagogical reflection.

The LearnLab, it seems to me, is much like Blackboard. Blackboard provides a useful, structured way to get some elements of a course online. The truly creative faculty member can go far beyond the basics. But most will take the path of least resistance and take the default settings. The LearnLab is similar. There is merit to the space, and it does make worthwhile improvements by, for example, creating a greater sense of community within the classroom. Students face each other, the instructor can move about the classroom, and there is no back row where students can hide (and get lost). Yet the LL  has a certain rigidity to its setup. The tables are large, so while the chairs are mobile (chairs with casters, now that's innovative), the tables really are not mobile. So the LL may not look like a lecture hall, but it will almost always look the same from class to class, in the default "X" arrangement. In addition, the complexity of this opt-out system will tend to push the novice toward using the "defaults."

Our learning innovation studio, I would argue, should be much more flexible. One goal for the space is that it serve as a sandbox for the study of pedagogy. It should be an opt-in space where faculty members decide what to include, based on their pedagogical goals and a commitment to trying new things, rather than an opt-out room crowded with tools and a default way to use them.

Lane, L. M. (2009). Insidious pedagogy: How course management systems impact teaching. First Monday, 14(10). Retrieved from http://firstmonday.org/htbin/cgiwrap/bin/ojs/index.php/fm/article/view/2530/2303